Valentines Box

I remember when I was in second or third grade and we were supposed to make a "mailbox" to bring to school to receive Valentine's from our classmates the next day.  I remember I wrote out a Valentine to each of my classmates one of those that came 25 or 50 to a box...the ones that were little and single sided with corny puns for greetings.  But somehow even though I had the crepe paper in white and pink to cover the empty tissue box, it got too late and was past my bedtime.  Much to my amazement, my father said he would decorate the box for me.

Well, I wondered and worried about this as I tried to sleep.  After a bit, I snuck out of bed and peeked into the kitchen where my dad sat at the kitchen table working on the only piece of "art" I had ever seen my father work on.  And through my sleepy eyes, in the dim light of the small lamp by which he worked, it looked beautiful.  I could not beleive my father capable of creating such a wonderful valentine mailbox for me to take to school the next day...all covered with white crepe paper and red crepe paper hearts.  I went back to my room and fell soundly asleep.

My father left for work at 4:30 every morning, so he was long gone before my brother and I got up the next morning.  I ran to the kitchen to see the finished product.  My mouth fell open and I was tragically disappointed when I saw the box my father had created.  The glue had dried in blotches and the crepe paper had shrunk in places and was not very tightly adhered to the box.  The hearts had curled up until they no longer looked like hearts but red scraps primitively attached by tape to the white crepe.  Even the slit in the top of the box was not cut even.

I remember I took it to school and put it on my desk.  I never told any of the other kids who made it.  I just put it on my desk and hoped for the best.  I honestly don't remember what happened after that.  I guess no one said anything.  Everyone circulated through the room depositing their valentines and I did get my share, I am sure.  No one said anything about the sorry box I had, not even the teacher.  At least I don't recall anyone saying anything.  The only thing I do remember is my father, who had to get up so very early the next morning, sitting up until very late, putting together this work of art for me, as best he could, with love.

My dad was rarely able to show his affection.  He was often cold, usually distant, frequently at the local bar after work drinking away the sadness that so pervaded his existence.  He was a very sad, lonely man I have come to understand.  And it is on Valentine's Day that I always think about this little box he made for me out of a tissue box, crepe paper and glue.  He tried.  And when I remember the box now, it has become the most beautiful token of love I could ever have received from him.  

Expressions of love comes in unexpected forms.  I know this now.  

Happy Valentine's Day